When Ereshkigal Wakes
Something ancient has been awakened. It is powerful, alive, and moving inside all of us.
Our collective feminine rage — the nausea, the heat in our wombs, the tightening of our throats, the sense that we cannot unsee this — is what’s needed to meet this moment.
Recently, as I sat preparing for a class I am teaching on Ereshkigal, Queen of the Underworld, I became aware of her rising within me — and in all of us.
She is the one yelling and screaming inside our bodies; she is the one pounding at the gates. She is the one who has carried the weight of the repulsive shadow of patriarchy for far too long, holding what could not be spoken, what was buried, what was never witnessed.
Now, she is rising. Through you, sister, and through me.
The Epstein files did not create this eruption; they broke a seal. They exposed, once again, a truth many of us have carried catastrophically in our bodies for aeons: that there are systems designed to protect power rather than life; that perpetrators are shielded while victims are named; that justice is endlessly delayed, diluted, or redacted.
For many of us, this isn’t shock; it’s a sickening recognition. And this recognition lives in our bodies.
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